Click and Collect: Service Call

20 Temmuz 2022 0 Yazar: sexhikayeleri


[Author’s note: you can read Click and Collect: Hugh’s Wrapped for the back-story, but in short: Beth has a secret packaging fetish at her husband’s expense]

We didn’t take the Harbinger’s company van, that would have been too much, but we were wearing the uniforms, stuffed in the front of Hayley’s car in the summer heat, without aircon.

“How do you cool down in this thing?” I asked.

“Wind the window down.”

“Are you thinking of getting the aircon fixed?”

“Winding the window down’s way cheaper. My boss doesn’t pay me enough to get the aircon fixed.”

Hayley glanced at me from the driver’s seat, a mocking smile on her lovely face. She rolled her window down and the wind blew strands of her long auburn hair across her face.

“Even with the money you make on the side?”

“Even with the money I make on the side,” she confirmed. “Talking of which.”

We’d been discussing this recently, the idea of going fifty-fifty on the extra-curricular services we offered our special customers. I’d already decided that it was fair, but I couldn’t just cave in. I was her boss after all.

“Let’s reappraise your performance after this service call.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no.”

In truth, we were working well together. There were certain things that we could offer as a team that I couldn’t offer on my own, and this call was going to prove that point. I heard Hayley sigh.

“Just make sure you read the directions out. They live in that suburban maze that’s all circuits and roundabouts and avenues. I always get lost going in there. It’s like the freaking Twilight Zone, but with coffee shops.”

We pulled up outside a neat, white two-storey house about twenty minutes later. The front lawn was well-kept, surrounded by manicured hedges. Hayley stepped out of the car and slid her high heels on. I grabbed my bag from the back seat and followed her up the sandstone path to the front door, watching the way her beautifully-shaped bottom moved in the regulation-length store skirt. I knocked on the door.

“Gardeners,” she said, looking around the front. “No way the owner would take the time to do this much work outside.”

“That’s judgemental.”

“Tom, she even outsourced her own husband to us.”

“Fair point.”

Just then the door opened to reveal a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, blonde hair tucked behind her ears. She wore a soft, white summer dress with buttons running down the front. The way it draped around her breasts and thighs gave the suggestion of a superb body underneath. She was barefoot.

“Bethany,” I said, “Hi. Tom and Hayley from the store. I believe you requested a service call. Trouble with an appliance?”

Hayley glanced over her shoulder, and I could hear sounds from within: male and female voices.

“Have we come at a bad time? You did specify four o’clock.”

Bethany smiled warmly. “It’s the perfect time. Please, do come in.”

She stood to one side and we entered the house, following her down a long, white-painted hallway.

“Very nice,” I commented.

“We designed the place ourselves. My husband got a good bonus a few years running, so we decided to put it into the house,” she said, conversationally, “He’s very good at his job. And he does appreciate how I run the house.”

Bethany led us to the back of the house into an open-plan living space with wide bi-fold doors out into an extensive garden. I could see a dozen people on the back lawn.

“We’re having a barbeque. Such nice weather, we need to make the most of it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hayley give me a nervous glance. I shared her concern.

“Are you sure this is a good time for a service call?”

“Absolutely. Here.”

Bethany stood in the open kitchen area at the large island benchtop. I could see bowls of salad and trays of condiments set out, next to glasses for drinks. There was a large silver plate piled with raw steak. Bethany beckoned me around to her side of the island.

At that moment, a voice called out from the patio, and I looked up to see a woman walking in from the grass with a toddler in tow.

“He’s been in the dirt,” the woman said, “Where…?”

Bethany laughed and pointed back the way we had come in. “Second door on the left. You’ll find clean towels under the sink.”

I noticed that as she talked to the other woman, she leaned close to the island, pressing her thighs up against the cupboard güvenilir bahis doors. Once the woman was gone, Bethany stepped back and pulled on the cupboard handles. The doors opened to reveal a large, five-pointed shape. It took me a moment to realise that the shape was actually human.

Secreted inside the kitchen cupboard was a man’s torso, wrapped in shiny layers of plastic. The arms were missing and the legs only came down to the knees. Where the head should have been was a black, featureless cone with a pipe emerging from the front. The pipe snaked upwards to a clip on the inside of the door. The only other distinguishing feature of the torso was a black rubber dildo hanging in the space between the figure’s legs.

Casually, Bethany unhooked the end of the pipe from its clip and placed her thumb over the end. She watched idly as the torso began to wriggle and heave. I watched the shrink-wrapped shape buck and could now make out arms and legs behind the torso, folded back tightly and bound together. There appeared to be a steel pole mounted vertically behind the shape, to which it was attached at neck and waist level, keeping it upright. After a few moments, Bethany removed her thumb and the torso contracted and expanded, sucking air. I noticed that the dildo was now pointing upwards.

I exchanged glances with Hayley. She stepped past me to appraise the bound figure in the cupboard.

“Could you start by telling us the problems you’ve been having with the appliance?” she asked.

“It’s the cleaning cycle. It’s sometimes hard to get the expected level of finish.”

Hayley nodded thoughtfully. I had no idea what she was making of this situation.

“How often do you clear the pipes?” Hayley asked.

Bethany made a show of considering the question, and replied, “Four or five times a week, I suppose.”


“Is that not good?”

“Generally, for optimum performance you should only need to clear the pipes a couple of times a month.”

I stifled a smile. Hayley was good: it seemed to be exactly what Bethany wanted to hear. Less so for the poor creature in the cupboard, I could only imagine.

Both women appraised the tightly-wrapped figure. The dildo was now pointing firmly out from the torso.

“How is the suction at the moment?” Hayley asked.

Sounds from the guests drifted in through the open doors and I saw Bethany glance slyly out at the back garden before stepping in front of the cupboard. She popped the bottom two buttons of her dress and parted the material to reveal shapely legs, crested by a shaved pussy. Bethany reached down to the figure and tugged the bottom of the hood up, exposing a chin and then eventually a mouth. She checked the scene outside again before pressing her naked crotch to the exposed mouth. I saw a tongue emerge and slide between her pussy lips.

Just then the other woman returned from the bathroom, dragging her small son behind her.

“Thanks Beth,” she called, then noticed us all standing on the opposite side of the island bench in a row.

“What’s up?” the woman asked.

Bethany smiled sweetly, her lower half hidden from view. “I bought an appliance but we got plumbing issues”, she said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bethany’s hips making tiny rocking motions, pushing against the tongue darting deep inside her.

“That’s pretty tough. And brand new?”

“Just had it a few weeks.”

“Don’t tell me. You got Hugh to fix the problem.”

Bethany laughed at the mention of her husband’s name, and spread her hands across the white marble surface, “Hugh is the problem.”

I could see her fingertips go white as she began to grip the cool stone.

“Man as good as that can’t be great at everything,” the woman continued, “That would be unfair.”

Bethany snorted, expelling a quick breath. I could see the rhythm of her hips pick up.

“Where is he anyway? I thought he’d be around to cook the steaks at least.”

Bethany sighed loudly. “Oh, he’s wrapped up in a job he has to finish.”

“He’s always working too hard, y’know. Plus, it’s hard on you too.”

Bethany’s foot came up, brushing against the solid black protrusion. “It’s very hard,” she said as her toes ran down the length of the shaft.

“Shall I send Max in? He’s good at steak.”

“Maybe give it ten minutes?”


“Thanks, Clea.”

The other woman turned, escorting her son back into the daylight. Bethany’s hand güvenilir bahis siteleri crept below the countertop to rest on her husband’s head, pulling him deeper into her crotch. Hayley and I watched as the mistress of the house began to build up to her climax.

“Suction has definitely… wow… uh… improved,” she gasped.

I kept watch on the guests. With the cupboard doors open and Hayley standing next to her, it would be almost impossible for anyone to see what was happening. We were probably safe.

Bethany hissed through her teeth and screwed her eye closed, then she backed away from the bench, panting. Her dress flopped back across her crotch.

“You’re very discreet,” I observed.

Bethany’s eyes opened and she grinned at me.

“Two kids. You have to be.”

She buttoned her dress back up and rested a hand on Hayley’s arm.

“Thanks for the advice, that’s much better. Would you like to see for yourself?”

Hayley and I exchanged looks. This had never been part of the deal, but it was clearly part of Bethany’s fantasy to have her husband wrapped and helpless, obediently servicing whichever pussy was presented. I shrugged.

Hayley stood, transfixed, eyes shifting from Bethany to her trussed-up husband in the cupboard.

“It would be unprofessional not to,” she said, finally. “We should check the quality of our appliances.”

She was looking at me strangely, and I realised she was waiting for permission. I had never seen any more of her body than the shapely curve of her calves and the sudden prospect of her exposing herself to be pleasured as part of this attractive, unassuming housewife’s twisted little domination game stirred my loins.

Turning to Bethany, I said, “We stand behind our service. Or in this case, in front of it.”

The two women swapped positions, Bethany now shielding Hayley from view as she hitched up her skirt. I watched her expose the soft skin of her thighs as she pulled up the grey fabric, revealing plain white panties. She obviously hadn’t planned on showing her crotch in public, much less to her boss.

Carefully, she edged the panties down her legs and stepped forward out of them, positioning herself in front of the waiting mouth. I saw a neat strip of russet hair above pink lips. The thought flashed unbidden through my mind of me being the one on the floor open mouthed, waiting to taste her. Bethany’s fingers were curled over the top of the cupboard door, her gaze transfixed on Hayley’s neatly-trimmed mound as it approached her husband’s waiting tongue.

“Steaks?” boomed a male voice from the open doors. I looked up quickly, conscious of Hayley exposed with nowhere to hide. A tall beast of a man with a neat beard and curly black hair came striding into the kitchen, followed by Clea. This must be Max, I thought.

Bethany half turned to meet the intruders. “Uhh.”

“Just there,” I interjected, sweeping around the island bench, drawing the gaze of the pair with me and away from Hayley. I scooped up the meat tray and handed it to the man.

“Sure must be hungry,” I said, pointing down at the steaks, “That’s a lot of meat.”

Max looked down. I was acutely aware that if he looked sideways it would be obvious that something strange was happening. I stole a swift glance in Hayley’s direction. She was frozen to the spot, a look of surprise etched on her face.

Max scooped the plate out of my hands and grinned at me, heading back out towards the grass without another word. It was only then that I became aware of Clea standing there, staring. No-one moved, frozen in a little tableau in the ultra-modern kitchen. Hayley’s eyes dropped from me to her crotch and as I stepped back around the island bench I could see what was happening. The mouth was slurping hungrily at her pussy, working its tongue between her folds with reckless abandon.

“I…,” Clea began, “I should get back… um, I’ll go check on the kids.”

There was silence.

“No,” Bethany replied. “Come and look.”

She held out a hand to Clea, gently guiding her around the edge of the bench until she could see the contents of the cupboard. Clea sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Now you know,” said Bethany.

Clea blushed. “So that talk we had…?”

“Yes. I decided I needed to make some changes.”

Clea bit her lip, her eyes never leaving the human shape bound in the inescapable layers of shiny wrap.

“How did you do it?”

Bethany iddaa siteleri stroked the black latex of the breath hood.

“I started out small, just little things, making little behavioural changes,” she confided. “When I saw him begin to accept them, I started to take over his decisions in bigger parts of his life.”

“But this is, um, way more than you said. How did you get him to let you do this to him?”

I noticed that, as the wrapped shape under the counter was pleasuring my colleague, the two women were talking as if Bethany’s husband wasn’t even there. Which, I suppose, in a way, he no longer was: it was easy to look at the writhing shape in the cupboard as a thing, rather than as her husband.

“The point of no return was when I decided it had come time to take away his orgasms. Now he only climaxes on the occasions where I think he deserves it. He became very compliant after that,” Bethany said, still stroking the hood, “He became very eager to please me.”

The wrapped figure was working hard, tongue dipping into Hayley and then lips pursed over her clit, sucking greedily. Hayley’s jaws were clenched and she was puffing little breaths through her nose, desperately trying to remain quiet. Her hand slapped the white marble, her other hand white knuckled in the grey fabric of her dress. She screwed her eyes shut and stopped breathing, the tendons on her neck sticking out.

“Fuuuuuck,” she gasped, pulling away. Hayley stood, legs apart, bent forwards over the benchtop, letting her skirt fall back down around her legs, panting.

“Solved the suction issue,” Bethany said.

Hayley just nodded. It took her a while before she could straighten back up. “That is one hell of a…,” she began.

“Talent,” Bethany said. “It’s taken a lot of patience and a lot of training, but the results. Well, they speak for themselves.”

Bethany rolled the hood back down over her helpless husband’s juice-slick mouth and gently nudged Hayley out of the way so that she could close the cupboard doors. They didn’t shut all the way and Bethany frowned, giving them an extra push. Then she looked down and laughed: a shiny, rigid black rod was caught between the doors. Bethany used her big toe to stroke up and down the length of the shaft and then she circled the engorged tip. It twitched, bobbing up and down in response to her callous ministrations, seemingly desperate for just a little more of her touch.

She’d skilfully brought him to the edge of climax with just her foot; all she had to do to let him finish was brush his rigid manhood once more with her toe. Clea smiled to herself as she watched the shiny black pole teetering on the brink. Instead, she poked it back inside the cupboard and closed the doors firmly.

“I’ll clear its pipes maybe in a couple of weeks, as you say. But only if I continue to get such a high standard of cleaning.”

“Now,” she said, “I think it’s time to eat. I think I’ll leave the appliance where it is and let’s go get the party started. It’s going nowhere. Oh, Clea, I might let you use it later if you’d like.”

Clea didn’t respond. Bethany turned to us.

“Thank you for coming all this way, I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient.”

“No problem at all. Part of the service,” I replied. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

I took Hayley by the arm and began to lead her away. We made our way out of the kitchen and along the hall. At the front door, I stopped as footsteps approached us from behind.

“Wait,” called a voice.

I turned. It was Clea, her jaw muscles working as if she was about to apologise.

Instead, she asked, “Do you have a business card?”

I obliged, fishing one out of my wallet. Hayley opened the door and we stepped out into the late afternoon sun.

She was quiet in the car on the way back.

I broke the silence. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What do you think was going through his head? All his friends right there in his own garden, him turned into some oral sex appliance by his own wife and then she forces him to pleasure whoever she wanted. And then she doesn’t let him cum. For all we know, she’s now making him lick out that other woman as we speak.”

“Or she loves him so much that she wants to give him other women to pleasure,” I countered. “You never know what’s really going on between the sheets. Anyway, you seemed to enjoy it.”

“You seemed to like watching.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. She had me cold.

“Yeah, well,” she said, “Keep navigating. I’m relying on you not to get us lost.

[Author’s note: If you like what you read, please feel free to leave a comment or a star rating. Constructive feedback is always welcome]